


The Devil's Consort

by Nitrobot



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: F/M, Semi-Public Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 12:00:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7314403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nitrobot/pseuds/Nitrobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Onshot sequel to The Devil's Advocate. Cybertron is on its way to recovery, and Lord Starscream is settling into his new throne over Vos, with Arcee by his side. And after crossing the line between enemy and friend, they finally soar over the thin precarious one between a boss and his subordinate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil's Consort

**Author's Note:**

> The Devil's Advocate was alright, sure, but no sex? Outrageous.   
> (note that this is a sequel so the events won't make much sense if you haven't read the first fic. But if you're only here for the smut, I guess you don't care about that *shrug*)

As usual, the day was filled to brim with meetings and hearings and lectures and more political gatherings than Arcee could even name, all of them turning Iacon into the planet’s boredom capital. And, as usual, Lord Starscream was nowhere to be found.

She scaled the sweeping galleries, trawled the central plaza, even clambered up balconies jutting out around Vos’ Citadel, yet Arcee ended up finding him in the most obvious place; the north tower, nicknamed Astraea’s Spire, the tallest out of the three flanking the mighty Seeker palace he'd been given along with his title of Winglord. It gave the perfect vantage point for a mech who owned the city sprawling out in front of him, still raw and scarred from the war, like the welded wound still marked deep in his wing, but slowly healing under his watch.

Standing there in the light of the midday sun, his wings slicing the rays into jagged shadows behind him, Starscream never looked so lonely and beautiful. Not that Arcee would ever tell him that. 

“Starscream?” She was one of the few bots who could get away with not calling him Lord, and he was slow to face her with shadows dancing in his optics. “If you're done admiring the view, we have a riveting lecture on energon mining efficiency to attend in Iacon.”

Usually he would have made a quip about just admiring her instead, and she'd have to try and hide her horrendously sincere blush. But he was quiet, angling his wings uncertainly on their joints as his face cast about the bare chamber. Arcee only realised why when she saw something glint between his claws; the late Megatron's T Cog, an ugly, mangled contraption smashed together from the innards of his dead brothers. And his claws were a tight cage around it, barely holding back from cutting into the muddy gold metal.

“It's said that this is where Astraea was kept chained, on this very floor," he said, in that storyteller voice she could spend more than hours doing nothing but listening to. "Daedalus built this tower as the tallest building in all of Vos, so that even though his daughter could no longer fly, she would always be close to the heavens she adored.”

“That's… surprisingly beautiful,” Arcee said, smiling just as Starscream did, and his chuckle was like shallow waves rippling against the beach of a barren island. 

“An apt description for much of what Daedalus did.” He looked out again over the horizon, the never-changing landscape that would have been Astraea’s whole life, perhaps grateful that at least he was free to soar between its scrapers. Just a vorn ago Arcee would have sooner called a Scraplet cuddly than Starscream grateful for anything, but a vorn ago she didn't have a planet to return to. She certainly didn't have someone who could warm her spark and sprinkle fire in her nodes with just a look.

That wasn’t the look Starscream was giving her just now. He saved this one for when he was eager to whine about something. “Do I _have_ to attend the meeting?”

"When you asked to be included in council affairs, that deal included the boring ones,” Arcee reminded him, though he could hardly blame him for hoping. Vos’ fledgling cityscape was hard to tear away from, even for someone who couldn't coast through its lofty air currents. But this high up she could feel them playing against her winglets, not quite covering up how they fluttered under Starscream’s gaze as it quickly turned devious.

"Very well. You're coming in with me, though. We can enjoy suffering together.” Arcee rolled her optics, only just catching a glint of gold metal tumbling from his claws and down over the balcony to strike the ground league's below, or an unlucky bot’s helm. When they descended the tower and passed under the Citadel’s flared arch, she thought she saw shattered shrapnel from the last remnant of Megatron being swept away on the wind. 

 

**xx**

 

If Perceptor got his way, the lecture would have stretched well into the evening and everyone would have been stumbling home by moonlight on numb joints. But as it was, even Prowl was getting bored of looking at near-identical diagrams of energon drills for breems on end, so Optimus spared them all by adjourning for the day. And it would be much easier to miss the second part in the morning.

“Primus, I won't even be able to fly back if my backstrut gets any stiffer…” Outside the council hall, Starscream was hunched over as he rubbed his spinal strut roughly, as if he could squeeze the ache out of it. 

Arcee wasn't faring much better, her wheels struggling to spin on their frozen axles as she dragged herself out after him into the early night, with the warm air and starlight caressing them both. “And just leave me to drive home all by myself? Not very gentlemech-like of you.” 

“Well, dear, being as pretty as a Seeker doesn't mean you _are_ one.” Starscream was expecting the backhand smack against his shoulder, and he hardly bothered to try deflecting it. If anything his wings were twitching with amusement, just like her own winglets, both of them casting sharp shadows against the walls of the alley they'd both found themselves walking down, the same one that trawled between the council plaza and the rest of Iacon’s glittering suburbs. 

“A shortcut?” Arcee asked, hearing the other bots trickling out and making for the highways that would be congestion-clogged even at this time of the cycle.

Starscream didn't quite nod, but his claws idly reached for her nearest hand with that devilish finish starting to creep over his faceplate. “We’ll avoid any prying optics here, at least.” 

Arcee quirked an eyeridge, but let her digits tangle with his talons. “And why would they be prying, Starscream?”

“Because I'm well known for doing stupid things,” he said, drifting closer so his voice could sink low and tremble all through her frame. “Like this.” She saw the kiss coming miles away, had been hoping for it ever since she felt his claws dip under his desk to stroke her thigh and heard that silky edge slip along his voice. That was all they'd managed so far, nanoklick kisses and passing touches that left her wanting more with each one, desire building ceaselessly until she had to hold herself back from pouncing on him. Though from how quickly he went to sliding his glossa in, taking full advantage of her muffled gasp to fully claim her mouth. No teasing, no one to interrupt them, Starscream didn't want to waste any time showing how much he wanted her, just as much as she wanted him. And there was only one thing she could complain about.

“You couldn't have chosen a more romantic setting?” She hated having to pull away from his lips, his tongue still half-lodged on top of hers, but that impish smirk did more to her body than a thousand kisses could.

“Call me an opportunist. I get horny when I'm bored,” he growled, easing the root of a moan out of her before forcing the rest of the guilty sound out by shoving her against the wall, flattening her winglets and making her helm push back as he sucked on her neck cables, as if he could taste the boiling energon rushing underneath her protoform. And from how eagerly his glossa lapped, denta nipping at a bundle of nodes just under her chin, he was hungry. Starving, drinking in her groans and the thrumming heat of her spark burning behind her chestplates as they pushed against his body, craving the controlled icy flare from his chamber. And, most of all, grinding against that shamelessly obvious lump growing harder between his legs. 

“Still feeling stiff, Screamer?” Each word was barely more than a shallow vent, with Arcee’s servos thrown limply around Starscream’s shoulders with his erratic, impatient wings grazing against her fingers.

“Only for you…” If Arcee thought he was going to be an aft and pull away to make her wait until they reached the safety of his berth all the way in Vos, she was quickly proven wrong and wasn't quite sure whether to be grateful for it or not. His knees eased her legs apart and his servos effortlessly looped them around his hips, so he could feel for himself how easily her panel slid apart between his claws. She had to bite her lip furiously to stop filling all of Iacon with her moans, unable to keep them down as Starscream pushed aside her wet folds, cold talons against her warm walls that kept pulling them in deeper and giving him even more to be smug about. No matter how many times she'd imagined his claws inside her before, nothing could have prepared her for how they scraped past every node she had, digging into the deepest clusters to set her on fire from within. 

“Someone’s… gonna hear us…” Even now Arcee could hear distant leftover chatter between politicians still lingering outside the hall, maybe even Optimus himself. But she wasn't quite convinced they'd even bother her, and they certainly didn't deter Starscream. If anything knowing they were so close to being caught only made him harder, and she wasn't even sure if it was just his codpiece she was feeling grinding against her.

“They won't if you keep quiet,” he informed her, the waggle of his eyeridges obvious even with her helm craned up towards the stars and her optics so narrow with bliss. He let her sag down so he could kiss her mouth, sealing their lips together so he could swallow her heavy moans when he removed his expert claws and replaced them with his spike in one thrust. And another, and another, each one leaving blue streaks on the wall at her back and swelling her spark with pleasure she hadn’t felt for years, and never like this. Never with sharp talons rasping against her armour, or snarls rolling down her throat, or red optics drenching her in a glare of unbridled lust that she never thought could turn her on so much. All from a Decepticon she used to want dead. 

“You... fragging… jerk…!” 

He was at her neck again, chuckling around the cables he was nibbling, pausing his deep thrusts into her valve. “Would you rather I stopped?”

Everything on her frame was heavy, too soaked with arousal to let her move, but she managed to pull Starscream’s face with a hand wrapped around his red crest, pulling his forehelm against her own with coolant glistening on both of them. “Don’t you fragging dare,” she hissed, tightening her arms around Starscream’s neck as she melted into his mouth, riding his spike to keep the charge going between them. She'd felt the overload coming for what felt like breems, tried to ward it off and keep the mounting limbo going for as long as possible, but even proud and cocky Starscream was losing his grip. Faster thrusts, metal slapping roughly against metal and wall, choked moans all told Arcee he wouldn't hold back when he climaxed. He’d let her know just how much he loved it.

“Do it, Starscream… overload in me…”

“Yes… mmmh… oh, yes, Arcee…ARCEE!” Anyone left loitering in a five mild radius would have heard Starscream’s climax as something between an Insecticon’s hunting cry and the roar of a jet engine snapping sound barriers. Arcee heard it as the crescendo to the overload that had her spasming, taut and aching in the Seeker’s grip as the pleasure finally tipped out in waves from her valve, throbbing around Starscream's spurting spike. But no one came running to bust them, no one saw the Winglord and his only advocate trembling against each other, coolant and fluids and silent moans trickling between their bodies. 

“...What happened to being quiet?” Arcee whispered, basking in the new warmth filling her valve.

“You should know by now I don't follow my own rules. Especially when you're worth breaking them…” Starscream planted another smirking kiss on her numb lips, breathing wheezy laughter, and she would have happily fallen asleep against him and let him carry her back to his chamber. Which was convenient, because she was so exhausted that he had to do exactly that.


End file.
